“When I first met him, yes. And I was foolish enough to think that I had to brother him. Queer what notions a man gets into his head, sometimes.”
Though he did not look aside, he knew that Drew was regarding him curiously.
“You come of brothering stock, don’t you, Trask?”
“At one time I was ass enough to think so. That was another of the queer notions. How is the ‘Little Jean’ coming along?”
“Splendidly. The vein values are increasing as we drive in on the lode. We are making another clean-up from the plates this week, and you’ll get a dividend that will warm the cockles of your heart.”
“Money,” said Philip half contemptuously. “When you don’t have it, it’s the most desirable thing in the world. And when you get it——” he broke off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
The promoter smiled. “Money is only a means to an end, of course. If it is not too personal a question, what are you doing with yours?”
“Nothing, as yet. Bromley is investing his share here and there, setting me a good example. But I haven’t followed it.”
From that the talk went back to the gulch on the western slope, and Drew told how the shut-in valley had been overrun by prospectors as soon as the snow was off. A few small leads had been discovered higher up the gulch, but nothing at all comparable with the “Little Jean.” Reference to the hard winter the discoverers of the “Little Jean” had put in led Drew to ask about Garth; and the mention of the big miner’s name stabbingly reminded Philip of the chance incident in which Garth had figured, and which had led up to the blotting out of all recollection of him.
“Garth is in Denver; or he was yesterday,” he replied.